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TO THE DOGMATIST 



To the Dogmatist 
and other Poems 



By FRED D. WENTZEL 

li 




BOSTON 

THE STRATFORD COMPANY 

1917 



T53J*^^t 



,^t7 



117 



Copyright 1917 by 

THE STKATFORD COMPANY 

Boston, Mass. 



JUL -5 !9I? 



The Alpine Press, Boston 






Proem 

IAYAS a child, and they sent me out, 
With toddling step and gleeful shout, 
To know the Way of Life. 
Bitter and sweet, 'mid thorns and flowers, 
Stretched the Road of the Passing Hours 
That is part of the Way of Life. 

Flowers I plucked that I found not fair. 
But I plucked them here, and I plucked them 
there 
Along the Way of Life. 
From the Garden of Thought and the Land of 

Deeds 
I snatched them out from the rankling weeds 
That darken the Way of Life. 

I sheltered them all in the House of Rhyme 
To rescue their fragrance from the Winds of 
Time 

That blow o 'er the Way of Life ; 
And plucking the flowers ever I go. 
For 'tis not for the sons of men to know 

The end of the Way of Life. 



Contents 



Proem 

To the Dogmatist . . . . 


V 

. 1 


The Forsaken Child of God 


. 2 


A Poem from Heine's ''Die Harzreis 


e" . 5 


To 


. 16 


The Spirit of the American Indian ' 


Visits 


a Modern Soldier . 


. 17 


Senior Class Poem . . . . 


. 22 


To the Girl of Dreams Unrealized 


. 23 


Reveries of a Pessimist 


. 24 


Approach of Winter . . . . 


. 25 


The Score 


. 27 


On Founder's Day, March 10, 1915 . 


. 28 


To Dare to Think 


. 30 


Thoughts of an Anarchist . 


. 34 


Mother 


. 35 


The College Sport's Philosophy 


. 42 


A Dream 


. 44 


Faith 


. 48 



To the Dogmatist 

WHEN I was a little romping boy, 
Wild as the weeds I played among, 
Gay as the robin's morning song, 
One with Nature the whole day long, 
You taught me, "I believe." 

Your ' ' Credo ' ' had been but a curse to me : 
Mist to becloud my growing mind, 
Cell to imprison and chain to bind, 
Peopling with goblins the ghost-free wind, — 
But ne'er did I believe. 

And now that I've grown to manhood's thought. 

Creeds are a sick'ning sham to me^ 

Dogma is palling mockery, — 

Thinking my thoughts, not yours, I'm free, — 

Care I what you believe? 

Tell me not to believe as you, 

I think my thoughts, think your thoughts, too ! 

God 's voice to me is forever new, 

Care I what it says to you ? 

[1] 



TO THE DOGMATIST 



The Forsaken Child of God 

NIGHT, and the stars, and God's pale 
moon, — 
Peace in the heavens, but hark ! what cry 
Wings through the stillness its weeping flight 
And wails as it passes, ' ' Forsaken I ! " 

Armenia, Minerva's child. 

Whose wise and potent intellect 
Has nourished Europe 's dying man. 

What aid from Heaven canst thou expect 1 

Jehovah is deaf, — mayhap he sleeps; 

Bring not to him thy gruesome woes : 
Reel o'er the desert, thou failing line, 

Die to the Kurds, thy libertine foes ! 

Dead is the State's once quivering heart. 
Dull is the edge of their righteous ire. 

Shorn of their anger and robbed of their 
wrath, 
Fearing the touch of Mars' fierce fire. 



AND OTHER POEMS 

Weary, Armenia, with wind-blown dust, 
Mourning thy manhood left slain behind. 

Trailing in pain thy blood-shod feet, 

Hungry and thirsty, — no help canst find ? 

Lone in thy misery, lone in thy grief, 
Scattered to harem and slavery and shame. 

Martyrs to country and duty and faith. 
Vanishing, dying, — whose the blame? 

Speed to Olympus thy prayers and vows. 
Rest not thy hope on God 's awaking ; 

He will not list though thy cry pierce heaven : 
Doomed is thy life, all Christians forsaking. 

Where is the boasted sympathy 

Of them who feign to love thy kind ? 

Where is their vengeance, where their power 
The lewd and raving beast to bind? 



Over the Eden of Eve they pass 

Suffering, staggering, driven with steel 

Into the Hell of torture and lust — 
Is there none Armenia's cross to feel? 

[3] 



TO THE DOGMATIST 

Rise in your anger, America, rise ! 

Fling to the winds your pity and tears. 
Rouse swift your soul and stay the beast ; 

Hasten the end of his dying years ! 

Long has he scourged and ravished and torn, 
Purity weeps and innocence bleeds ; 

Afar from the land of the Prophet rings 
Armenia's cry, ''I perish!" Who heeds? 



[4 J 



AND OTHER POEMS 



A Poem from Heine*s "Die Harzreise*' 
I 

ON the mouutain stands a cabin 
Where the aged miner stays, 
Nearby rustle verdant fir trees, 
Beams the moon with saffron rays. 

There 's an armchair in the cabin 
Richly carved with wondrous care; 

He who sits on it is happy. 
For 'tis I am sitting there. 

On the footstool sits the maiden, 
Props her arm upon my knee ; 

Two wee eyes like stars of azure. 
Wee rose lips dyed crimsonly. 

And the lovely stars of azure 

Gaze upon me heaven-fair, 
While she seeks with lily finger 

Rose-red lips with roguish air. 

[5] 



TO THE DOGMATIST 

No, her mother does not heed us, 
For she spins on busy loom ; 

And her father plays the zither 
While he sings the olden tune. 

And the maiden whispers softly, 

Softly, in an undertone; 
Many an important secret 

Trusts she to my ears alone. 

*' Since my auntie's gone to heaven 
'Tis no longer ours to fare 

To the shooting match at Goslar ; 
And how pleasant it is there ! 

' ' Here, however, it is lonely, 

On the chilling mountain height ; 

And in winter we 're completely 
Snow-entombed and bleak bedight. 

''And I am a timid maiden, 
And in child-like fear am I 

'Cause of evil mountain goblins 
Who at night their business ply." 

[61 



AND OTHER POEMS 

Sudden stops the darling lassie 

As if speech affrighted too, 
And with both wee hands she covers 

Her twin star-like eyes of blue. 

Louder rustle moon-bathed fir trees 
And the spin wheel whirrs and hums; 

Intervening zither murmurs, 
Olden tune a-singing comes: 

''Fear thou not, loved little maiden, 

What the evil goblins do ; 
Day and night, loved little maiden. 

Angels keep their watch o'er you." 



II 



Fir trees with their emerald fingers 
Tapping at the window low; 

And the moon, the yellow Listener, 
Makes the whole room sweetly glow. 

Father, mother, breathing softly 
In the sleeping chamber nigh. 

But we two, for pleasing chatter, 
Cannot close the wakeful eye. 

[7] 



TO THE DOGMATIST 

''That you're aught too often praying, 

Hard I find it to believe ; 
Quivering lips like yours betoken 

Naught of prayer, as I conceive. 

*'0h, that evil, freezing quiver. 
How it frightens me each time ! 

But my darksome fear is tranquil 
At your eye's pure gleam sublime. 

''And I guess you're not believing 
What you ought believe the most, — 

Have you faith in God the Father, 
In the Son and Holy Ghost?" 

"Ah, wee maiden, e'en in boyhood, 
When on mother's knee I sate, 

I believed in God the Father, 
Sovereign ruler, good and great ; 

"Who this wondrous world has fashioned, 
Wondrous, too, the men thereon ; 

Who designed the heavenly orbits 
For both stars and moon and sun. 

[81 



AND OTHER POEMS 

"As I older grew, my lassie, 
Understood I more and more ; 

Understood, and came to reason, — 
Now the Son I too adore: 

'^ Lovely Son, who loving showed us 
All that love in man might be ; 

In return, as ever happens. 
He was nailed upon a tree. 

' ' Now that I have grown to manhood, 
Read each book, and seen each coast. 

Swells my heart, and deep within me, 
I adore the Holy Ghost. 

''This one wrought the greatest wonders. 
And far greater works today; 

He has cleft the tyrant's stronghold, 
Cleft the yoke of slaves away. 

"Olden mortal wounds he's healing, 

And reviving statutes old : 
Equal-born, men all are members 

Of one noble family fold. 

[91 



TO THE DOGMATIST 

' ' He dispels the mists of evil, 
Superstition's phantom gloom, 

Which our love and gladness soured, — 
Day and night our grinning doom. 

'' Knights a thousand, mighty armored, 
Has the Holy Ghost, choice aid, 

To fulfill his sovereign pleasure. 
And he makes them unafraid. 

*' Swords of theirs do brightly glitter. 
And their goodly banners wave. 

Yes, well might you, little maiden. 
Look upon a knight so brave. 

* ' Now, then, look on me, my maiden, 
Fearless be your look and kiss; 

Even I am such a chosen 

Knight of Holy Ghost like this." 

Ill 

Still the moon itself is hiding 
Out behind the verdant pine ; 

In the room our lamp dim flickers, 
Scarce of light gives any sign. 

noi 



AND OTHER POEMS 

But my stars of heavenly azure 

Brighten up with shining rays, 
And the rose of carmine blushes, 

And the lovely maiden says: 

''Tiny little people, elf -folk, 
Steal our bacon and our bread ; 

In the chest it lies at evening, 
And at morning it is fled. 

''And the cat's indeed a sorc'ress, 

Day and night, at any hour. 
Creeping toward yon spirit-mountain, 

Toward the long-decayed old tower. 

"In that place once stood a castle. 
Filled with joy and armor's gleam: 

Knights resplendent, dames and pages 
Swung in dance of torchlight beam. 

"Then were charmed both folk and castle 

By an evil-working witch; 
Only ruins now are standing, 

Owls nest there in every niche. 

nil 



TO THE DOGMATIST 

"But my sainted auntie told me 
If one right words fitting says, 

Nightly at the fitting hour, 
Yonder in the fitting place, 

' ' Then again become the ruins 

Castle shining as of yore, 
Knights and dames and throng of pages 

Dance with merry hearts once more ; 

''And who has those right words spoken, 
His are then both folk and tower; 

Drums and trumpets pay low homage 
To his youthful lordly power. ' ' 

So there blossom elf-tale pictures 
From her mouth 's own little rose. 

And her eyes are beaming o'er them, — 
Azure starlight from them flows. 

Then around my hands the maiden 
Twines her locks of golden hair. 

Gives my fingers names of fancy. 
Smiles, and ends her tale so fair. 

[12] 



AND OTHER POEMS 

All things in the quiet chamber 
View me with such friendly mien 

That the table and the cupboard 
Are to me as earlier seen. 

Pleasing, solemn chats the wall-clock, 
Faint sounds from the zither seem 

Of their own accord to murmur, 
And I sit as in a dream. 

*'Now indeed 's the fitting hour, 

Here the fitting place is, too ; 
Marvel would you if, my maiden, 

Fitting words I spoke for you ? 

''When I speak those words, the midnight 
Breaks in morning light and quakes. 

Brook and fir trees roar full louder, 
And the aged mountain wakes. 

"Zither sounds and songs of pigmies 
From the mountain 's crevice ring. 

And out sprouts a flower-forest, 
Blooming like a madcap spring. 

[13 1 



TO THE DOGMATIST 

''Flowers, daring, magic flowers; 

Broadened leaves and fable-lmed, 
Perfumed, varicolored, passionate, 

Quivering as with life imbued. 

"Roses, wild as flames of scarlet 
Sprinkled from this turmoil rise ; 

Lilies, like clear crystal pillars. 
Shoot far upward to the skies. 

"Large as suns the stars of heaven 
Downward look with yearning beam, 

Every lily's giant chalice 

Fills with their descending stream. 

"But we two ourselves, sweet maiden, 
More transformed by far are we, 

Gold and silk and gleam of armor 
Shimmer round us merrily. 

"You, you have become the princess. 
This your hut the tower grand ; 

Here are shouting, here are dancing 
Knights and dames and pages' band. 

[14] 



AND OTHER POEMS 

*'But now I, I have acquired 

You and all, both folk and tower ; 

Drums and trumpets pay low homage 
To my youthful lordly power." 



15 



TO THE DOGMATIST 



To. 



THE western skies are seas of flaming 
bronze, 
The noise of day is still; dusk's whisper comes 
To hush earth's weary men to rest. The light 
Grows dark, and Night on sable wings descends 
And broods o'er voiceless hill and silent dale. 
'Tis dark, and loneliness unspeakable 
Engulfs my soul. But then with hope I turn 
Where mem'ry guards inviolate the only face I 

love: 
And all the world is light. I need no sun. 
Nor moon nor stars to cheer my way, no path 
To guide my steps; to know thy noble heart 
Beats one with mine, to feel thy deepest trust, 
Thy richest sympathy, thy love, thy life, — 
All mine to cherish, yea, until the moon 
Shall wax and wane no more, — I crave no boon 
Besides. I care not for the gloom of night ; 
If memory keep thy face I can defy 
The dark, for thou shalt be God's kindly light 
To cheer and lead my lonely soul aright. 

[16] 



AND OTHER POEMS 



The Spirit of the American Indian Visits 
a Modern Soldier 



I 



LAY with aimless gaze 'neath moon and stars 
That seeming dripped with blood my sword 
had shed, 
When sudden heaven a spirit chieftain held, 
Who, sadly stern, in stinging accents said: 

' ' From darkened wood where moonlight shadows 
play, 
Where once the copper savage wooed love's 
mate 
While Nature's varied music breathed sweet 
song, 
I rose,: — an Indian spirit called by fate. 

"Above great cities lulled in sleep I soared, 
A misty warrior clad in gauzy bands, 

Out o'er the groaning waves of tortured seas 
To Europe 's crying voice and suppliant hands. 

[17] 



TO THE DOGMATIST 

"Canst wonder why this soul long centuries 
flown 
Should stir when heaven and earth groan deep 
in pain, 
When picture, statue, hope, and life's ideals 
All mingle in Mars' caldron, — smoke and 
flame? 

"When you who curse with cultured Christian 

grace 

My bow and arrow, hatchet, knife, and spear 

Join hands with Death on land, in sea and air, — 

Shall Justice slight the cause that I plead 

here ? 

' ' Before your eastern foot touched western shore 

I worshipped towering trees and running 

brooks, — 

All Nature, boundless, trackless, vast, my church ; 

The stars of heaven, bird, leaf, and blade, my 

books. 

"A strange new story came with bearded men 
Of one who died both red and white to save, 

Who hated war and taught men better peace, — 
How gladly did I trust what traitors gave ! 

[18] 



AND OTHER POEMS 

**For traitors' lands are crimsoned deep with 
gore, 
A myriad beast-like men reel drunk with 
blood ; 
Your children, given no language but a cry, 
I cannot hear for roar of Martial flood. 

"I see fair fertile fields a desert waste. 

Rich century-aged beauty wrecked and lost; 

Cathedral, temple, palace, vineyard gone, — 
What mortal, red or white, shall reck the cost ? 

"What has Death's sable chariot left uncrushed? 
E'en heaven is black with arrows seeking 
hearts 
To pierce and kill; while hurrying, scurrying 
fright 
Seeks holes to hide, forsaking streets and 
marts. 

"Is this how you would calm my warrior soul 
And teach the Golden Rule and love's high 
law? 

Oh! free my shackled people from your dream, 
And let them kneel to faithful stone in awe. 

[19] 



TO THE DOGMATIST 

*'They need no spear of air nor monster shell 
To love, forgive, repent, believe, confess: 

What more than hollow, pulseless, Christless 
show 
Is a creed that veils a sword in readiness ? 

"What message have you now for barbarous 

men? 

The Prince of Peace whom war has lately 

slain ? 

Or ever Christ was preached to Indian heart 

My people knew the Spirit whence he came! 

"They prayed, oft dreamed, oft longed for 
heavenly lands, — 
Blest hunting grounds, and fields, and morn- 
ing dew. 
And hills with Nature 's sunshine, wind, and 
snow, — 
There all the mind's imaginings must come 
true. 

"Like yours their heart with deep pure passion 
stirred. 

Unflinching met reverses, wept in woe. 
Cried loud for love, grew hard with horrid hate. 

And blindly craved immortal heights to know. 

[20] 



AND OTHER POEMS 

"They knew the Spirit, — the Manitou of 
strength, 
Majestic power, and joy in battles won; 
But not the God of wisdom, beauty, love, — 
Do fighting priests teach aught of such an 
one? 

''Old Europe, rich in lore and law and light, — 
Has she a living lesson for my kin, 

Of loftier love, or higher hope, or gentler life ? 
Or is it sham and naught but death within ? ' ' 

The vision fled. I wildly rose and strained 
My burning eyes to see, but it was gone. 

Yet deep within my soul one question flamed, — 
Red savage, — were not he and I both one? 



21 



TO THE DOGMATIST 



Senior Class Poem 

IT took the worm ten million years 
To wriggle up to man, 
And man has kept on wriggling up 
For years beyond my ken. 

He left in fossils marks of strife 
That moved the vales to tears; 

And I am rich with joys and hopes 
Since he braved pains and fears. 

In four short years I 've learned the tale 
Of all that man has wrought 

In all the countless centuries 

He dared, and bled, and fought. 

That I'm the heir of him who tamed 

The terrors of the past, 
Inflames my soul to be, like him, 

A man unto the last. 

So let me, Freshman, tell the tale 

That makes men's lives sublime: 

The kingly man who ruled the past — 
We are, as he, divine ! 

[22] 



AND OTHER POEMS 



To the Girl of Dreams Unrealized 

THE farmer boy quaffed cups of joy: 
Red schoolhouse of the vale 
Deep thrilled his heart with passion's start, — - 
And thereby hangs a tale. 

The lad learned more than schoolroom lore, 
And wiser grew with age ; 
He came to know life's fuller glow 
Shed o'er experience' page. 

Who taught with books and charmed with looks 
Has gone her own life 's way ; 
Another walks, another talks 
Where she once ruled the day. 

But Time's swift stream reflects the gleam 
Of interest back again ; 
With brightening eye and deepening sigh 
Guides he the poet's pen 

To write fair lays for her who stays 
In the schoolhouse of the vale ; 
He drinks her smile in gladness while, — 
But she must end the tale ! 



TO THE DOGMATIST 



Reveries of a Pessimist 

I PLUCKED a lily damp with dew, 
Its aqueous chalice glistening fair ; 
I looked within its pure white walls, — 
An insect black lay dying there ! 

I met her in life 's morning hours, 
When roseate hues gild all earth's dross; 
I saw her inward soul,^ — and then, 
My seeming gain was aching loss. 

And so each beauty pleasing sight 
Is but the bright veneer of death, 
And friendship's fond illusion melts 
When truth may still deception's breath. 



[24 



AND OTHER POEMS 



Approach of Winter 

A CUTTING wind whirls o'er the land, 
The northern herald, furious, wild; 
An avalanche of snowy force, 
A soul-ful life, and more, — a mind! 

Small brooks are fringed with pendant ice. 
Their waters cold, as crj^stal clear ; 

Long slender drooping willow whips 
Are writhing, lashing, snapping near. 

On dreary fields high carrots wild, 
A myriad grasses, burdocks sere, — 

In all this death but one life's breath : 
Low fields of wheat, green waves of fear. 

Low mountains raise chill lifeless peaks, 
The forest, wind-tossed, groans and weeps ; 

Now through the rattling hurrying leaves 
The timid hare, quick-frightened, leaps. 

Out from his resting place the buck 
Rears high broad antlers, whiffs the air. 

Invigorated bounds through space 

As hounds when wild with bugle's blare. 

[25] 



TO THE DOGMATIST 

Softly, silently, swiftly falling 
In milky whirls to earth below. 

The air, the tree, the field, the stream 
Live one with quivering flakes of snow\ 

Fierce wintry winds of winter blow; 

From fleecy clouds snow, sleet, and rain 
All mingle, fall, bedeck earth all, — 

Drear knell of winter sounds again. 



[26] 



AND OTHER POEMS 



The Score 

ON down the street dance merry feet, 
Ring merry bells, bright banners greet ; 
Six hundred strong they skip along 
To cleave the air with shout and song. 
Low-rumbling drum, fierce bursting bomb 
Of spirit loosed, — hear dead stones hum! 
With wondering eye men gather by 
And speak a quick and curious ' ' Why ? ' ' 
Bright arc lights gleam with brilliant sheen 
On human ''Whys" that pavements screen: 
"What can these be, the things we see?" 
Incline your ears and list to me. 

You know the field, old Franklin field ? 

And did you dream old Penn could yield? 

One score of years onlooking seers 

Despaired in gloom and doubt and fears. 

Now ? Small men ? Light men ? What if so ? 

Low pigmies lay high giants low! 

Let blood-w^ars rage, let statesmen sage 

'erturn the world before its age : 

The states' grim war, the red war's gore 

Pale dim. Why? 10 to is the score. 

[27] 



TO THE DOGMATIST 



On Founder's Day, March 10, 1915 

FORGET today; and, gliding slow along the 
fertile banks 
Let memory trace through mists of years the 

golden stream, 
To where amid the throes of this republic's 

painful birth 
Great minds gave source to life and thought 

that, gathering strength 
From mountain torrent, valley brook, and rain 

from heaven, 
Have poured their priceless waters into sea of 

state and national life. 
On either side her onward flow unaging, richly 

nourished leaf 
Bears wondrous fruit that curious youths do 

eager seek and gladly eat; 
For thus small minds grow big with truth that 

frees from falsely fair. 
And reverent sees the spiritual core of earth and 

sea and air 
And all that is ; and thus hard hearts swell large 

with love 

[28] 



AND OTHER POEMS 

That overflows and floods the suffering world 
with pleasing cheer. 

Oh, memory ; dwell upon the wealth of that great 
stream 

Which gave to art and science, yea, to all the 
spheres of life, 

Rich blood, new thought, and high ideals. 

Forget today; and gliding 'long her century- 
stretching flow, 

Rejoice that thou art privileged by her banks to 
feed and grow. 

NOTE : Franldin and Marshall College was 
fou7ided on March 10, 1787. 



[29 



TO THE DOGMATIST 



To Dare to Think 

Goethean Literary Society Anniversary Poem, 
May 5, 1916. 

TO dare to think, — oneself to face 
Again the storm which primal man 
Beheld with quaking fear; to scan 
The darkening sky; again to pace 
Earth's fierce-blown shores to know God's plan 

In Nature 's frown and in her kiss ; 

The tyranny of creed to scorn, 

And thoughts of centuried custom born ; 

At old tradition's claims to hiss, 

To stop the past's too lavish horn; 

To dare to think, — unfettered, free 
From mandates of the hoary years, 
From specters of primeval fears, 
From errors ancient priests decreed, — 
Free, though it cost a sea of tears ! 

I cherish all the past may yield 
Of truth and beauty, law and light, 

[30] 



AND OTHER POEMS 

Its gifts are priceless in my sight ; 
With miser care its gold I shield, 
I reverence and confess its might. 

I read with awe in wood and stone 
The blood-bought victories of my race, 
And as with wondering eye I trace 
Their upward climb, 'tis joy to own 
Such heroes, and to feel that place 

Nor time has ever dimmed the gleam 
That lures men on o'er crag and fen 
To where, 'mid distant clouds, they ken 
Reality will crown their dream 
And bless the patient artisan. 

I roam the past in memory, 

I walk the streets of Greece and Rome, — 

In every clime I find a home, 

For everywhere men feel, as I, 

The urge toward God, the endless poem 

That sings man's immortality, 

And whispers low of nobler days 

When all earth's minor melodies. 

Caught up in one vast symphony. 

Shall swell and fill the heavens with praise. 

[31] 



TO THE DOGMATIST 

Of all the past am I a child, 

And gladly do I own my kin ; 

But in my life it ne'er shall win 

The throne of thought. Nor savage wild 

Nor cultured king shall rule within 

The citadel of mind, where I 
In lonely solitude must sit. 
The king of it, the lord of it ; 
Where all the thoughts of history hie 
To do my will. 'Tis plainly writ 

On life 's great scroll that he who dares 
The magic of his thought to ply 
To pry into the how and why 
Of sun and storm, — he little cares 
For voices from the past. But high 

Above their ceaseless clamoring noise 
He stands unmoved. Nor can Today, 
Too certain with its science, say, 
" 'Tis thus and so." He keeps the poise 
Of independence, hews his way 

Where others fear, and spurns the path 
Which they, enslaved by custom, tread. 
He moves alone ; untouched by dread, 

[32] 



AND OTHER POEMS 

And careless of men's smile or wrath 
Pursues the gleam. And by it led 

He flees the hold of error's thrall, 
And freer heights of truth attains 
Where Wisdom lofty-seated deigns 
To clear for him life's mysteries all: 
Its healing joys, its wounding pains. 

To dare to think,— I love the past, 
The present is my happy gain ; 
But let not past nor present reign 
In thought's dominion. Truth at last 
Shall come to me in Freedom's train. 



[33J 



TO THE DOGMATIST 



Thoughts of an Anarchist 

LAW is evil, man 's own nature inly good ; 
Highbrowed judges, despot kings, and 
tsars, — 
All the varied tools of regulating force, 
Ne'er remove but deepen human scars. 

Law is useless, — ever saying must and shalt. 
Holding cross and gibbet, every public shame. 
More than inward self-control and pride. 
Deeming love and inward justice but a name. 

Law is chaining ; cleave from righteous man his 

shackles, 
Swing the door of human freedom open far : 
Up shall rise resplendent innate right ; 
Out shall soar man's spirit sinless, sinful now. 

Law is evil; heaven is lost to governed men. 
Therefore raze your thrones, forget the wicked 

past. 
Dry your tears for human woes and myriad 

ills,— 
Evil dies when outward law has breathed its last. 

[341 



AND OTHER POEMS 



B 



Mother 

EFORE rich softening fireplace gleam, once 
raven night 
Now snowy hair a halo bears of purest gold. 
To eyes grown dim through lengthening years, 
the mellow light 
Faint image seems of fiery dreams, — a flame 
burnt old : 
Who has not wildly dreamed in youth, nor wildly 

groped 
For painless paths to royal heights, nor vainly 
hoped ? 



On rocking chair aged gray as she, absorbed in 
thought, — 
No lily chalice kissed with dew, no sky deep 
blue, 
No pearl so fair as she, whom God of love has 
wrought ; 
Life's mystery nothing yields more pure and 
true: 
Although thou'rt manger-born, hast richer alms 

[35] 



TO THE DOGMATIST 

Than thy frail frame rocked safe within a moth- 
er 's arms? 

A mother's soul who can search out, so vast, so 
fine? 
May mortal sound the fathomless depths of 
her deep thought? 

On rocking-chair companion-old, — deep fur- 
rowed line 
But vaguely paints the working mind with 
thinking fraught. 

She hears not, sees not, feels not now, but deeply 
thinks ; 

Her wrinkled, folded hands lie still, her gray 
head sinks. 

She thinks, — and may we guess she thinks of 
flesh and blood 
That, of her travail born with pain, now racks 
with grief 

The heart that starves for want of love, — ^heart 
torn by flood 
Of stinging memories bitter sad beyond be- 
lief? 

She thinks of sons gone forth to war, and what is 
nigh 

[36] 



AND OTHER POEMS 

A mother's bleeding heart whose sons in battle 
die? 

The roar of curdling cannon's voice dread mon- 
ster foe, 
Horned, fanged, hell-born monster seems to 
waiting souls, — 

Red monster in whose slimy train drags bloody 
woe, 
Whose armored claws dash trusting hearts on 
treacherous shoals. 

Her spirit quails beneath the weight, she sadly 
sighs; 

But other thoughts increasing sad bedim her 
eyes ; 

She thinks of daughters sunk to shame. Oh! 

who can know 
The rankling, throbbing, aching wounds that 

mother bears ? 
Pure, virtuous, whole her child she reared, — no 

whiter snow: 
Men's craven lust its whiteness blacked in 

beastly lairs. 
Or does the social vortex oft destroy earth's 

pure? 

[37] 



TO THE DOGMATIST 

Is not "I must" the law that binds her needful 
poor? 

The mother's voice shakes hard with pain, in 

sobs she speaks : 
"Ere now has self ne'er moved my soul; e'en 

still my life 
Is yours, boy, girl of mine ; my spirit seeks 
But means to purge, or save, or bless. I bled 

in strife, 
I bowed my back, my fingers bent,^ — what futile 

toil! 
To feed desire's ravening maw, or war's red 

moil." 

She pauses, lifts her head, then swiftly speaks: 
"My neighbor, too, has boys and girls, but 
they are small ; 

My soul thrills through with growing joy that 
greets 
The dawn of Peace, when war shall be to chil- 
dren all 

Sick thing of bones and spattered brains, of 
mingled gore, — 

High flash from hell, low groan from heaven, 
curst thing of yore ! 

[38] 



AND OTHER POEMS 

* * The dawn of Peace, when purity, made money- 
free, 
No more shall yield its crystal strength for 
food or drink. 

I look beyond life's present veil, and clear I see 
A world without a human soul near shame's 
fell brink. 

My neighbor, too, has girls and boys, but they 
are small; 

Nor blood nor lust-chased need shall cause their 
souls to fall. 

''Is earth a waste? Christ's spirit steals across 

the waste : 
Dust climbs to soul in grass and flowers, in 

plant and tree. 
Is earth a darkened vault of tears? His angels 

haste 
With torch of love: the weeping laugh, the 

vault-blind see. 
I see earth's Eden fair restored; men work with 

God, 
And in His present bow the knee, or plow the 

sod." 

Unselfish heart! Thy joy from others' joy is 
born! 

[39] 



TO THE DOGMATIST 

Thou art the spark divine of God, incased in 

clay: 
Thy wrinkled-hand and furrowed brow, thy 

stooping form, 
In service wrinkled, furrowed, stooped, calm 

wait the day 
When spirit bound by mortal flesh, from flesh 

made free. 
Shall join the sea whence spirits spring, — God's 

spirit-sea. 

Thy soul, — is it not the fount whence all life's 

glories rise? 
Rich source of art, unfailing vine of deathless 

branch, 
Bright sun of warming light red-set in azure 

skies, 
Soft, soothing balm, earth's bleeding wounds 

to heal and stanch : 
Thou art the world, all form and shape in life 

expressed 
Is thee in varied changing guise, each like the 

rest. 

Thou art the fount ; the painter takes a drop of 
thee, — 



[40 



AND OTHER POEMS 

Strange prism that breaks in many hues each 

ray of white. 
The sculptor takes, congeals the drop, and lo ! 

men see 
Stone wondrous-formed to stir their souls with 

beauty's might. 
Unknowing, life its fashion has from force of 

thine. 
Of thee were born time's deeds and thoughts, 

time's truths sublime. 

Thou seest but dim the light that glows, the log 

that burns, 
But what thou seest beyond the glow, what 

mortal knows ? 
Thy secrets have but murmuring lips, and no one 

learns 
Save he who, like thyself, to death's gate goes. 
Thou art too deep ; on rocking-chair, absorbed in 

thought. 
Earth blesses thee but breathes in awe, ''What 

hath God wrought ? ' ' 



[41] 



TO THE DOGMATIST 



The College Sport's Philosophy 

SO luring is the path of flowery joy 
And grim the narrow way of work and toil, 
I wonder why Abe Lincoln trod o'er thorns, 
Where lions lurk and slimy serpents coil! 

Give me for weary soul soft wine of ease, 
And let me live where music lulls and calms ; 

Where brooks go chattering by with soothing 
song, 
And merry swallows scatter all alarms. 

When evening broods and lights are mellow-dim. 
May sweet caresses be my joyful part ; 

But let the heart be stone — for when I go 
I would not leave behind one broken heart. 

Or let my tired body cushioned lie 

While wreathes of smoke with lazy motion 
rise: 
So worries fade and visions gather thick, — 

Earth's dust angelic wings thru starry skies. 

[42] 



AND OTHER POEMS 

When empty ritual groans o'er chapel seats 
And hollow music unaccompanied weeps, 

Neglected textbooks call and I obey, — 

For conscience lolls 'neath ritual's wing, and 
sleeps. 

Some student friends of mine seem glad to work, 
And I am glad they seek truth 's golden star : 

Their notebooks are as useful helps as Jowett, 
Their broad and easy backs ride better far. 

A glass or so, — ^no harm can come of that; 

Why, friend, men high in life drink Indian 
fire. 
If others, weaker, follow me and fall 

Am I to blame for their uncurbed desire? 

So let us love and smoke and trot and drink : 
We 're here for royal fun and work must wait. 

Let clouds of future ill ne'er cross joy's path; 
Live on, I say, forget dark threats of fate ! 

He best treats self and reaps life's richest gains 
Who smiling sucks the honey others build. 

Flings care to winds and flies on freedom's car 
To lands that charm, with wine and pleasure 
filled. 

[43] 



TO THE DOGMATIST 



A Dream 

OFT had I marked her beauty and her grace, 
And marvelled that her garment, white 
as fleece, 
Could brush the grimj^ woes of dust-stained men 
With healing in its folds, and yet retain 
Its whiteness lily-pure. Now as she moved 
With lofty mien, but hands in blessings rich. 
Among the throng, — I saw the pleading eyes 
Of anguished mothers glad with laughing tears ; 
And men who, like Laocobn of Rome, 
Had graven on their face the lines of death, 
Round whom the God-cursed serpent tightly 

wound 
Its evil poisoned strength, — on them I saw 
The look of triumph, as that which once 
Had clasped its slimy length about their forms 
Was turned to dust and scattered by earth's 
winds. 

A weazened child, whose twisted body bore 
The ugly marks of Ignorance, Greed, and Lust, 

[44] 



AND OTHER POEMS 

The syllables of whose speech were groans and 

sobs, 
Came limping to her gracious side : methinks 
I ne'er shall see again such infinite pain 
And sorrow writ on face of man or god 
As then I saw enshroud the face of her 
Who long stood silent, gazing on the stem, 
The bent and bruised stem, the broken stem 
Of childhood's blooming, blushing flower. The 

child 
In timid, hesitating hope, mayhap 
In doubt lest that unusual sympathy 
Which beamed from out the stranger's suffering 

eyes 
Were but another mask for tyrant Industry, 
Reached slowly out to feel her snow-white robe. 
I saw that queen come down from heaven stoop 
And press his fearful frailty close. It was 
As if a pitying angel, passing by, 
Should see a daisy crushed by impious feet, 
And, seeking to restore to God what man, 
Forgetting Beauty, and exalting Use, 
Had idly spumed and trod to earth, should 

breathe 
Anew upon the flower the breath of life. 
And lift its drooping head to face the sun. 

[45] 



TO THE DOGMATIST 

For when again the stranger stooped, the lad 
That left her fond embrace was fair to see : 
His limbs, that once were gnarled, now showed 

as straight 
As forest pines ; his eyes, now tearless, danced ; 
Away he gamboled free as running water. 
As gleeful as the colt in new-found pastures. 

Thus, Ceres-like, she scattered from her horn 
Of plenty, fruits of power, peace, and joy. 
As lazy clouds, hung black twixt sun and earth 
And casting o'er the world of men dark shades 
Of gloomy night, when Aeolus breathes, move 

swift. 
While shadows run before the hosts of light, 
Her coming 'mid the press dismayed the Fiends 
Who long had found delight in chaining men 
With fears, and sowing discords, lust, and hate 
To mock with insolent, leering face the sons 
Of God ; and at her voice, as sweet 
And potent as the lyre whose charming song 
Could melt the heart of Pluto and recall 
From Hades loved Eurydice, they fled 
To hide unseen of men, while all the earth 
Was basking in the sun of hope and faith and 

love. 

[46] 



AND OTHER POEMS 

She fed with generous hand the hungry, wan 
And lonely in their squalid huts; of drink 
She freely gave to all whose lips were pale 
And parched with thirst; in her the stranger 

found 
A hostess prodigal of hospitality, 
Who took the friendless in and bade him stay 
Where glowed the fires of kindness and good 

cheer ; 
She clothed the naked; they who pined 
In sickness felt her near to bless and fill 
Again the weary flesh with vigor. He 
Who sat imprisoned, nursing dull despair, 
Drew from her lovely presence lively hope. 
Her name was Love. * * * 0, would my dream 

were fact ! 
For if the love of Him whose life was love 
Expressed in lovely deeds, were given a place 
To dwell among the suffering sons of men. 
We all should be as gods, and Earth were 

Heaven ! 



[47] 



TO THE DOGMATIST 



Faith 

THEY play me false who in my hopeful 
youth 
I never dreamed could shame their lips with lies, 
Their prayers with fair deceits, their love with 

lust. 
Their lauded alms with ill-concealed desire 
To gain the public eye, or, sadder still. 
To turn the thronging feet of those who praise 
To barter at their counters. Yet to me 
'Tis given to trust that in the hidden years 
Which lie before, the good shall crush the bad; 
The serpent shall release his fangs; the fox, 
Whose cunning is the art of diplomats 
And thieves who rob men's gold and steal the 

gems 
Of Virtue; jungle beasts whose roar and claw 
Beat pruning hooks to swords, — all these must 

come 
To own the reign of Love, the might of minds 
Attune with infinite Beauty, Right, and Truth. 



[48] 



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